


Still Have That Dance

by WitchcraftAndTrickery



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Dancing Steve Rogers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Old Peggy, Oneshot, Post Avengers (2012), Post Captain America, Vera Lynn, Young Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:14:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchcraftAndTrickery/pseuds/WitchcraftAndTrickery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might take them seventy years, but Steve and Peggy will have that dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Have That Dance

It was so noisy in the club.

Everybody had reason to celebrate. The flags were up, the banners were waving, the band was playing the loudest, liveliest jives they could muster, and everywhere there were the sharpest suits, the most colourful dresses. The tables were covered in what seemed to be silk – they must have been hidden from the collectors the past few years. All around, friends were laughing, men were smoking, women were embracing. In the centre of the dance floor, couples twirled and kicked and sashayed, their heads thrown back in wild abandon.

The tables were packed together, and the people were packed around the tables. The neon light flashed above the overrun bar. "The Stork Club, New York".

There was one table that wasn't full. There was only one woman sitting there. A pretty, petite woman, with soft brown curls and wide set, coffee brown eyes. She was perfectly made-up, almost military precision. Her lips were a crimson bow, her face flawlessly covered, her eyes tastefully shadowed. Her dress was equally crimson, hugging a toned figure with a deep neckline. A silver cross hung on a small black ribbon around her throat.

It wasn't that she was sitting alone that made her stand out. It was her expression. Half anxious, half sad. Amid the fervent merry-makers, she seemed to look dejected and hopeless, as if the war was no over, but only just beginning.

Her eyes never stopped. The clock. The dancers. The door. The tables. The clock again. _He'll be here_ , she thought, nervously. _He has to be._

The clock was showing half past eight. Peggy had been there for half an hour already. She'd found a table, taken a glass of water – earning a surprised look from the bartender – and waited.

Not that she'd been ignored. A young woman, all dolled up, sitting alone on a night of celebration like this. A young man with dark slicked hair had made his way over to her almost immediately.

"That's a lovely dress, ma'am," he had told her, smiling. "'Course, not as lovely at all as the lady who's wearin' it." He had winked roguishly.

She had smiled. "Thank you… I found it in a bit of a rush, actually."

He had noticed the cross round her throat. "A servin' lady! I salute you, ma'am. Just come back myself… You ain't from the US, are ya?"

Peggy had shook her head. "No. But I've served with your army since the war began. And likewise – everyone who fought deserves their own medal."

He had liked that, and puffed himself up a little. "You, uh," he looked around, "You waitin' for somebody? Or could I be so brave as to ask the madam for a celebratory welcome-home dance?"

Peggy looked at her lap. "I'm afraid I'm waiting for someone. He is on his way," she added, more to herself than her companion.

He had nodded understandingly. "On his way back, I bet. Well, ma'am, with you lookin' as fine as you do tonight, may I say that he is one lucky soldier to have you to return to. G'night ma'am."

And he had returned to his friends, who were jeering at his lack of success. More had followed, and been politely declined. _Please_ , she thought, clutching her water glass until her knuckles were white. _You have to come._

A group of women, around her own age, shimmied over to her after a while. Peggy had noticed them standing and watching her, and had ignored them. They probably thought that she was aloof and proud, and now wanted to know why.

"You not gonna dance, hon?" asked one, a tall and lanky girl with cropped yellow hair. "Tonight's the night for an easy boogie, if ya know what I mean…" Her friends giggled loudly.

"No, I'm waiting for someone, I'm afraid," answered Peggy, calmly, her hands clutching the hem of her dress beneath the table.

"Oh, waiting, schwaiting," babbled a curvy redhead beside the first. "Come on! You can't spend your whole life waiting for your super soldier to carry you away!"

Peggy said nothing, but stared at the woman blankly for a moment. How could she know…?

"I mean, they're all super guys, so just take your pick? I would, if I could wear that," she continued, gazing wistfully at Peggy's scarlet clothes.

Peggy dropped her gaze. She didn't know. Nobody knew. Her 'super soldier' had just saved them all from complete destruction _and nobody knew_. "Maybe," she said, her fists closing tighter over her hem, "But I promised him I'd wait, and that is what I intend to do."

The women rolled their eyes. "Well, sugar, if ya change your mind, there's a free seat at our table and plenty of guys to go round…" chuckled a Hispanic looking girl from behind them. Peggy smiled in return, but let it drop as they walked away.

The clock was now reading half past nine. It wasn't like him to be late. He was early for everything, something which would drive Colonel Philips insane and make Peggy smile. He wasn't going to be early this time. He wasn't coming.

She had known from the beginning that he wasn't coming. Right from when she had lost his signal as he crashed the airship into the wasteland, she had known that he wouldn't come. But she had had to try. Even if there was just the slightest hope. Howard had told her not to. Philips had told her not to. Her own reflection had told her not to as she had gotten ready. But she had.

In the corner of her eye, she saw a tall blond man step through the door and hand his coat to the waiting steward. She spun around, hardly daring to believe it – but it wasn't him. Of course it wasn't. He wasn't coming back to her. He never would.

The dancers still laughed and whirled in a sickening circus of joy as the clock struck ten. Peggy began to cry for the first time in years.

* * *

The room was quiet. Quiet, except for the crackle of a wireless radio and the hooting trill of trumpets emanating from it. Peggy's feet were up on the carefully embroidered stool, her hands clasped around a small teacup. There were cards dotted around the room, decorated with roses and guilt edging.

One lay open next to Peggy on the couch.

 _Dear Aunt Peggy,_ it read. _Happy birthday to you! I hope you're having a great day, and that you're watching how much sherry you're drinking….! Don't party too hard, now!_

_College is going amazingly well, I'm really enjoying Military Science. I'm so glad you convinced me to do that now, and not boring Chemistry. Thanks a bunch!_

_Me and Dad will visit soon, I promise. We're still trying to fix everything after all that's happened here. I still can't believe it, even since you explained it all. It's been way too long since I've seen you, though – Grandpa Roger would kill me if he could see me now, leaving you alone on your special day!_

_Lots and lots of love,_

_Sharon xxxxxx_

_PS – I'll see you soon!_

Peggy read the card as she sipped her tea. She had lived in the States for the past seventy years, but she still couldn't bring herself to drink coffee. Her inner Englishwoman, she told people.

The DJ's voice crackled over the wireless. "And now for a wartime favourite! I bet you all remember this guy from when you were kids, I had all the action figures and trading cards – don't you lie, you had them too! Here we go – The Star Spangled Man!"

Peggy shook her head. It just figured that they would play something like that on her birthday. He had hated that song, anyway. He had hated the whole idea of it. He hadn't been about action figures and trading cards – he had been _real_ action, and tactics, and good besting evil. And he was back. How had he come back? And why? Why now?

Thickly-accented chorus girls echoed from the speaker. " _Who's strong and brave, here to save the American way? Who vows to fight like a man for what's right night and day?"_

She had seen him on the television, when those aliens attacked Manhattan. Peggy had seen enough strange things by now to not question what happened, but it hadn't stopped her from being terrified – not for herself, those things had never reached Brooklyn, where her home was, but for Sharon. Her grand-niece, alone in the city while those extra-terrestrial brutes crushed it. She had been terrified, until she had seen him; directing, leading, fighting, protecting. Doing what he did best.

And he was _so young_. No older than the day he had crashed. A tear trickled down Peggy's wrinkled cheek, her withered hands shaking despite herself.

" _Who'll finish what they began? Who'll kick the krauts to Japan? The Star Spangled Man with a Plan!_ "

There was a tentative knock on the door as the song finished with a flourish of horns and trumpets. Peggy wiped her eyes hastily with her knitted sleeve, and patted her silvery hair.

"Yes?" she called, rearranging herself.

Bethany, her nurse, pushed open the door and stood uncertainly by the threshold. She played with a strand of mousey hair, twirling it between her fingers. Her eyes were darting between the floor and the door. "You've got a visitor, Ms Carter," she mumbled. Bethany was usually a bright, cheerful girl. Her nervousness was uncharacteristic, and it set Peggy on edge.

"Oh?" she replied, raising her eyebrows, "And who is it?"

A flash of blond appeared behind Bethany's head. Blue eyes glinted in the sunlight.

"It's me."

Peggy froze. It _was_ him. Here. Now. In her little apartment in a Brooklyn care home.

Bethany smiled weakly. "I'll, uh, leave you two alone. Just, um, call me if you need anything, Ms Carter. Sir." Ducking her head, she left, shutting the door as quietly as she could.

Bethany's heels could be heard clicking down the corridor until the sound faded into nothing. The radio DJ still chattered away, seemingly uncaring of what was happening in Peggy's lounge. Steve stood awkwardly, his hands in his jeans pockets – it was _quite_ strange to see him in modern clothes, or not in his suit. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her.

Peggy set her cup down with shaking fingers as Steve motioned to the collection of medals on the wall above her. "I'm glad you got everything you deserved," he said, quietly. "If anyone did, it was you."

Oh Lord, his voice was still the same. Still quiet, still calm, but still strong, still as unfalteringly _Steve_. She stared at him, her mouth open. He was so young. He was tall and fit and muscular and so full of vitality and life. Peggy realised suddenly how old, how decrepit she must look to him.

"I'm… It's been…" she couldn't speak. She held his gaze, wondering if he would hate how old she had become. It wasn't her fault. It was him who had frozen time around himself.

He smiled. "I know. Almost seventy years. Fury told me."

"You haven't aged a bit."

Steve chuckled. "Frozen in ice. Does wonders for the skin." He sat down as Peggy gaped. "Yeah," he continued, "S.H.I.E.L.D dug me out. Thawed me out, I guess. Got me to take part in this 'Avengers Initiative' of Fury's. And… I guess you saw the rest."

She nodded. "I did. You saved America. The world. Again." She chuckled dryly as the familiar pink blush crept along Steve's cheeks. No, he hadn't changed a bit.

"Just doin' my job," he mumbled, and Peggy broke into laughter until it turned into coughs. Steve leaned in, anxious, but she waved him away.

"I'm fine, I'm fine… I suppose my lungs don't work like they used to..." She coughed some more before taking a deep breath and settling back into her cushions again. "So," she asked, smiling. "Don't you want to know how everything's been?"

She told him everything. How the war had finished when he'd taken Hydra down, how she had sat in the Stork waiting for him. How she had found her brother and helped raise both his family and her recruits. How she replied that she had never managed to find the right person when people asked why she never married. How Philips had died, years back, after serving a long and maybe not so peaceful retirement of 'popping in' to check on her recruits. How she had convinced her nephew's daughter Sharon to study Military Science and maybe follow in her own footsteps.

They sat for hours, talking, reminiscing, laughing. It was dark outside by the time the stopped.

Silence fell on the room, except for the clock and the DJ. Peggy noticed that Steve was playing twisting his hands around each other, fidgeting.

"Steve," she asked suddenly, "Does it bother you?"

He looked up, azure eyes wide. "Does what bother me?"

"Me." She gestured to herself, tugging on a strand of white hair. "I'm… I'm old, Steve."

He smiled, and caught her hand. "You're still Agent Carter to me, Pegs. And you'll always be the beautiful dame I didn't know how to speak to."

Peggy felt the tears stinging her eyes. "I want you to go on, Steve. Enjoy your new life. Most people don't have the chance."

Their eyes met, strong blue and faded brown. Steve's were sad. Peggy's were wistful. A new voice pealed on the radio. Softer, smoother, deeper than the high warbles of chorus girls.

" _We'll meet again; don't know where, don't know when, But I know we'll meet again some sunny day_ …"

Steve grinned, taking her other hand. "I believe, Agent Carter, I still have that dance?"

Peggy felt her face heat. "Steve, I can't…"

"'Course you can!" he laughed, sweeping her up and pressing her frail body to him. They swayed where they were, Peggy's lined cheek pressed against his toned chest. And she couldn't help but sighing in delight.

She hadn't realised that Bethany had edged open the door. Seeing the two, the young nurse couldn't help but smile. Ms Carter was such a strong lady. She deserved to be happy, even for a short while.

She pulled the door shut silently, and went back to the staff room as the music died away in Peggy's room.

" _We'll meet again; don't know where, don't know when, But I know we'll meet again some sunny day._ "


End file.
